The 8iggest Asshole
by grangegood
Summary: For Tazzy: When Vriska kisses Eridan, an alliance becomes a rivalry. EriVris


You fling the double doors open and strike a pose, cape fluttering. She doesn't look up, too busy working on that damn thing again. It infuriates you how hard she's trying to impress you. Doesn't she realise how transparent she's being? You stand there in her goddamned doorway, just watching. Say something, anything. Get her attention already!

"Uh, hey," you manage, weakly. Smooth.

Her head snaps up to look at you, and she scowls. "What? I'm working! You wanted me to build this damn thing for you, didn't you?" And then she mutters something, and you aren't sure but you think she just called you "fishbreath".

"You won't mind if I watch, will you?"

"Knock yourself out." She turns back to her work and you watch her strong yet slender fingers twist a bolt into the side of the spherical device.

She pauses for a moment, her hands relax briefly, and you look up and meet her eye. She glares at you, and you look away quickly, suddenly finding the rings on your right hand very interesting. You can feel her looking at you, and your face goes hot.

"Eeridaan?" She draws your name out, taunting you, and yet, behind that one frustrating nickname, you can hear how tired she is. You can hear her longing for it all to be over, you can hear the sleepless nights, the loneliness, and you wish there was more you could do. You watch her face as she realises you are waiting for her to say something else, and she fumbles for words to fill the descending silence and settles on "What colour do you want this?"

You shrug in the way you know she detests, and smirk a little, hoping to get some kind of reaction.

She just sighs. "Fine. Blue, then." She bends her head over her work, her long hair falling in a curtain over her shoulder, blocking your view. You can't see her and it bothers you. It's your project she's working on, isn't it? Shouldn't you get to supervise?

You clear your throat loudly and, although she doesn't look up, and her right hand keeps twisting that damn screwdriver, she lifts her left hand slowly above her head, middle finger raised.

"Vris…" you plead, only realising how pathetic you sound after the word is well out of your mouth.

"What?" she snaps, and you feel that familiar anger rising again, the anger that never stays away long when she's around.

"Well," you sniff, "I wasn't aware you hated me so very strongly." You pick up a pen from on top of a pile of her blueprints and begin drawing on the back of your hand. You hear her set down her tools carefully and her chair squeaks backwards along the floor. You freeze, listening to the sound of her feet as she approaches.

You barely have time to take in the expression on her face before she's grabbing you by the front of your shirt, pulling you to your feet. You can feel her hot breath on your face and it makes you weak at the knees. You're glad she's still holding you up. Maybe I do," she whispers, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

And then she's pressing her mouth against yours and you just can't believe her insolence. You consider pushing her off but you don't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she's phased you. You kiss her back forcefully, not even doing her the courtesy of tucking your sharp teeth safely away first.

One of your fangs catches on her lower lip, and she tenses up slightly as a twinge of pain shoots through her, but you aren't going to give in now. A droplet of cerulean blood wells up and you flick your tongue out to catch it. Lips moving in time with hers, you hook your arm behind her head. Her neck firs neatly in the crook of your elbow, and you pull her closer.

She gasps for air and you allow her a little space, smiling crookedly as she catches her breath, panting, centimetres from your face. You are beginning to wonder if she's ready to admit defeat, when she slaps you. Hard.

You let go of her in surprise and stumble backwards, clenching your teeth to avoid crying out as the pain sets in. You raise a tentative hand to the tender skin but her cool, gentle fingers are already there, tracing the red mark on your cheek.

"That's for being an asshole," she hisses in your ear, and the presses her lips to the sensitive area. You suck air in sharply through your teeth, managing not to squeak from the stinging kiss. "And that's for managing to be the biggest asshole I've ever fallen horns over heels for." She pulls back, looking at you carefully as you blush. She smirks. "Congrats."


End file.
